


The Promise

by XSayuriX



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XSayuriX/pseuds/XSayuriX
Summary: This is some kind of AU (most likely?) set in the future of The Lord of the Rings in which old friends meet again and time tears apart/brings together who wasn't/was - in my eyes - meant to be.





	The Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Death of a canon character - no major character in my eyes, though.   
> ______________  
> This is my very first actual fanfiction that was honestly meant to be read - it is also my debut on here which makes me quite happy since I put a couple of (hopefully) well-spent hours into research and writing - this was a challenge and I'm more than happy to share the result.   
> Thanks to all of my friends for the beta reading - especially a thanks to Shiratron!  
> Unlike most of the stories I'm writing in English, this one was meant to be written in British English (I tried) and the focus is more on descriptions - I might do that in other works too, but not as frequently, I guess.

Night has come to the fields around Gondor, darkness shut all light from above. A smell of a gentle honey breeze whooshing through the air, making its way to the king of the white castle. Silence has fallen, every bit of noise echoed through the corridors and the wide halls.   
Quietly but quickly he made his steps along the floors, watching out for the one he had seen in his forecast. He could not be sure about this happening, neither when it happens, nor whether it was right or just an illusion, a possibility out of a billion. But it was his heart that gave him only the slightest shimmer of hope, a feeling for this happening appearing to be the truth. The flames flickering along the walls, lightening the marmoreal floor he kept walking on, straight forward.   
Although the so-called ‘King of Gondor’ had not seen him in quite a while, he knew that his old friend had not forgotten him. His deep belief gave him hope all this time – Never would he forget him. His steps became faster, his breath quicker and his eyes widened as he sprinted out of the old wooden door. 

There he was, only a white, glowing illusion in front of the black night sky reaching out far to the horizon. Behind him, the ancient tree of Gondor rose up high into the darkness, strengthening the shimmer in which the silhouette appeared. Like a ghost on an even ghostly horse. The gentle breeze pulled on his glooming white hair as he jumped off of his horse’s back, gracile like a swan landing on the silent water right after a beautiful ballet-like flight. 

“Mellon*…” Only a whisper in the dark, still so strong, so meaningful. With wide opened arms the young man walked up to the King of Gondor, his old friend from a long time ago, a smile on his face, shining eyes and a heart full of love and hope. 

“Mellon…”

“I missed you…” Aragorn murmured as he wrapped his arms around his friend’s chest. “I did not dare to think that you would have forgotten me…Still, I was afraid…” 

“Oh, dear King of Gondor, how am I supposed to forget such a generous and strong-hearted friend of mine?” Softly he put his hands on Aragorn’s shoulders, smiling at him gently. A sigh of relief escaped the former Strider’s mouth as he looked into the deep blue eyes of the elf man. 

“My forecast has been correct, your appearance was foretold and I am relieved that you have come back to me, my friend.” A smile decorated Aragorn’s lips, although tears were dripping down his cheeks. “Come on in, Legolas…” 

“The white castle has overcome the dark times; you have healed it from the painful past, Mellon.” His eyes wandering around the long corridors and making their way to the wide halls, he followed his old friend. “But I must admit that the silence in these great halls reminds me of the dark times.” 

“I understand how you are feeling about this but trust me when I say that this castle could not be protected any better at the moment…” Aragorn stepped up to the white throne in the centre of the huge white hall filled with high piled up pillars. “What do you say, dear friend, would you like to take a seat after all these years?” He turned around to the elf man, watching him with a gentle smile, reaching out to his hand. 

“How do I deserve such an honour, King of Gondor? It is not worth an elf, I do not deserve such an offer.” Legolas bowed down as he quietly spoke these words, not raising his voice once, not showing any kind of emotion towards it. 

“Maybe it is not worth an elf, but definitely worth a friend. Now get up on your feet, you are not supposed to bow down in front of a friend, if it is the king or not.” Slowly the young elf got up again, raising his glance as he took the hand of the former Strider. Aragorn lead him to the throne of Gondor, gesturing him to sit down. Carefully, frightened to cause any kind of slightest damage, Legolas sat down on the throne, looking into his friend’s eyes, smiling thankfully. 

“You are a man of generosity, dear friend, I am afraid I do not deserve such a man calling me his friend.” His glance wandered around the wide hall, capturing every single detail, slowly but surely overwhelming his heart and mind. 

“You are a man of pride and hope, dear friend, never could I wish for any better friend than you are.” His voice echoed through the silence as he spoke proudly. 

*****

Steps were heard from afar, quick steps, almost as quiet as the silence itself, but noticeable through this greedy silence. 

“Legolas!” A voice called out, a shout of relief, yet surprise. Both of the men turned around, partially shocked, though in the end just curious. “I did hear voices but I was unsure about it. I could not believe you have returned!” 

“Arwen!” Aragorn walked down the stairs that lead up to the throne, smiling at her. “He did return as I have told you. I knew he would come back to us, I was certain about it.”

“Yet frightened it would have been false.” Arwen whispered as she walked up to her love. Quickly Legolas stood up from the throne, running down and bowing down in front of Arwen. 

“My Lady Arwen, I am grateful to see you again.” His voice was shaking as he stuttered these words, regretful for having the right to sit on the king’s throne. He did not get up, neither did he raise his head to look up at her. 

“Legolas, Mellon, get up on your feet again. This is not the right way to say hello to a friend, is it?” Her voice sounded as sweet as sugar, as soft as a melodious bird singing for the good times to arrive. Legolas carefully raised his head as he slowly got up again, looking right into her eyes. “Well then, Mae govannen**, Legolas.” 

“Mae govannen, Arwen.” His voice was just a whisper. Awestruck he looked at her, his heart heavy from all those emotions that he tried to lock away. 

“Now come on, Legolas, I am certain that you have had a long journey to get here. I believe that you are in the dire need of sleep, am I not right?” Aragorn smiled at his old friend, putting one hand on his shoulder. An almost unrecognizable nod was the elf’s sign to ask for a room to rest in. He followed Aragorn as they walked past the dining hall, making their way to the guest rooms of the white castle. 

“I see that you have changed the colour scheme…” Legolas whispered, glancing at the patterns decorating rooms and walls they were passing. A smile flitted across the King’s face when he heard his old friend saying these words. 

“I did. Do you like it?” Curiosity clearly noticeable in his voice as he spoke. A moment of silence filled the corridors while all three of them stood still, looking around. Finally, Legolas nodded slightly, throwing a glance at his friend. 

“You surely did great filling this damaged place with life once again, Mellon.” With a constant smile and a light blush the King of Gondor lead the elf to an empty room which was lit only by the moonlight shining through a round window right above the bed. Everywhere fragile sculptures were placed, decorating the room which was located right by the back entrance. 

“You can stay as long as you would like to although I would not mind if it would take you a bit longer. If you have any further needs, just tell me.” Legolas entered the room, looking around – aware to notice every single detail hidden in this beauty. It took quite a while until he glanced at Aragorn and Arwen again, smiling thankfully. 

“I am grateful for your offer, Aragorn, I will stay as long as I can.” A hint of fascination carried in his voice, he bowed down only a bit since he was certain about Aragorn being displeased about this behaviour towards him. His friend never properly got used to the title that was given to him quite a while ago. The so-called ‘King of Gondor’ had never been much more than the Strider, a Ranger from afar who was burdened by his destiny. Even after all these years he did not feel comfortable about the change time and past incidents have caused. Even after all these years Aragorn was not much more than an old friend, renewing his deep and loyal friendship with the elf man who has come a long way from the Mirkwood to serve his leader from a long time ago. 

“Call for me whenever you need a friend to speak to.” Those were the last words the king spoke before he left the room with his wife to leave the elf man alone for rest. The steps they took along the corridors died away until the greedy silence shut every bit of noise again. 

Carefully but curious Legolas strode past the bed and stroke along the wall to capture the fine details he had missed although he had tried to absorb everything properly. After the long ride by daylight and sunset he was of course exhausted but nevertheless he would not miss a chance to study his friend’s work on the white castle and its spirit. His feet slowly let him cross the room thrice until they lead him back to the window and onto the bed. He threw a glance at the view the window offered and was pleased by the appearance of his horse grazing on the outside, enjoying the silent, heated night. With a relieved smile, the elf put off his coat and laid down in the old wooden bed that was covered with huge, soft white sheets and a fleecy blanket. Although the dizziness caught him very quickly, it took him a while to fall asleep since he kept thinking about all the adventures he had gone through with his old friend Aragorn. Still, at some point Legolas dozed off quietly. 

*****

A deafening noise, close to a silent cry mixed up with a loud cracking and crunching, woke the elf in the middle of the night. His heart kept racing and his blood kept pumping through his veins even when he already passed the back entrance running out of the castle, carefully, only covered in an elvish, silken nightgown and armed with an old elvish bow and three arrows.   
Another screeching and crackling echoed through the expanse of the fields of Gondor while Legolas silently rushed along the paths leading him to where he thought the noise came from.   
A sudden attack of crippling anxiety caught him when he began to realise what kind of noise he had just heard. He felt his heart become heavier as he tried to set another step towards the origin of those horrifying sounds, fearing what he was about to see when he would arrive right at that spot. A frightening scream full of pain and fear forced him to move quicker, running towards a huge cliff that was placed right above a threatening black depth covered in rocks as sharp as knives and greedy for their victim’s blood. 

It took him another deep breath until he was able to look down the cliff that was almost completely flattened except for one huge ledge. Legolas was unable to believe what he was seeing right below him although he was majorly influenced by the fear that was suddenly overwhelming him because now he had to realise that what he had assumed was absolutely correct.   
Right below him on the centre of the ledge was a huge, pale Orc leaning over the lady of Gondor, his best friend’s love of his life, Arwen. Blood kept pouring out of deep scratches and wounds that covered all of her body, she was visibly unable to move in any way while this enormous, brutal monster did not cease from pulling her skin off of her body. In disgust the elf pulled out one of his arrows, targeting the Orcs neck that was twitching every time he spitted out groans and cackles of fascination and bloodlust. The only aim that was pumping through his veins while he was holding the bow was to destroy the beast that had just destroyed his old friend’s life. The only aim was to exterminate this horrible, terrifying creature, erasing it from existence because it had just shattered a man’s world.   
He took another deep breath and an awful silence crashed through the night, followed by a swooshing sound, a sharp scream, cracking and tumbling and a distant shout from somewhere behind the elf. Blood was rushing through his ears, forcing him to look around, realising only slowly what had just happened in the blink of an eye. 

The Orc had fallen off the cliff, an arrow perforating his head. Arwen was still laying there with a completely tattered body while Aragorn rushed up to Legolas, shaking and whimpering as he saw what his friend tried to avoid. 

“Goheno nin***, Mellon…” the elf whispered as he turned to the king falling to his knees. “I will bring her up here, stay where you are.” With determination he made some quick, gracile moves leaning down to the elven lady and picking her up carefully. The painful groans and whimpers she lead out as he brought her up the cliff put a strain on him and grieved his heart. Concerned he placed her on the coat which Aragorn had just prepared for her, shaking as if it was coldest winter. 

“Arwen…” Half a whisper, half a cry escaped Aragorn’s mouth as he kneeled down next to his love, leaning over her in fear and pain. Gently he took her hand, to hold on to the last bit of life that was still kept inside of her body. 

“Aragorn…I am sorry that I did not take care well enough…” Arwen murmured, struggling for air while she tried to smile for him. Under tears, the king shook his head, unable to answer straight away, not believing what just happened right in front of his eyes. He was not in the condition of understanding and realising, nor was he willing to. Legolas stood close to him, putting one hand on his shoulder and watching the scenario carefully, aware of not disturbing both of them. 

“Do not excuse yourself, my dear, it is going to be alright…!” So much fear and anger accompanied the slight shimmer of hope as Aragorn spoke although he was certain that she would not survive this attack. Her physical condition was incredibly awful, there was no way she would make it through the night. Yet unsure whether it was just the fact of non-acceptance or rather a serious belief of fortune, the king cried tears which he never thought he would have to cry. 

“Legolas…” The broken voice of the glowing silhouette lying on the ground broke the silence that was only disturbed by the sobs Aragorn was incapable to hold back. Deliberately the elf kneeled down on the other side, leaning forward with an incomprehensible expression. “Do me a favour, will you? Promise me to take care of him…” 

“I will. Always. Do not worry about him, I promise you to keep both of my eyes on him as much as I can.” Only the slightest hint of a smile made Arwen’s eyes shine and flicker from relief and thankfulness. She turned her head upwards, facing the stars as she knew she would take her last deep breaths. As if nothing happened, the night turned silent. The body was positioned as if she would just sleep, the only thing that had changed was the shimmer in her eyes that now had died with her.   
An aching, terrifying cry of suffering broke the silence that had laid itself upon the night sky. 

*****

“It has been seven months and yet the king has not shown up. One could believe he would have vanished.” The elf paused for a moment as he heard these words being said by an elderly man walking along the ancient market with a companion. Worry and fear have crossed the mind-set of the folk ever since Lady Arwen died seven months ago. The gondorian king had not shown up in public, neither had he talked to anybody except Legolas after the death of his wife. Seemingly, the Orcs have been preparing for further attacks which – luckily for Gondor – have not occurred yet. Still, the citizens’ doubts and fears are not baseless. The danger is rising and when it has grown enough, it will make its way to Minas Tirith and the Gondorians.   
Legolas leaned onto a brick wall, carefully listening to the dialogue the older men were having. 

“If he does not stand up close in time, the folk will lose all hope that he gave us once. The dark forces seem to rise again and if our king does not make a move to protect his folk, a lot may leave.” The first speaker’s companion murmured with a throaty voice while both of them stopped to let a family with six children pass. Legolas watched them concerned, listening strained. 

“Out of fear they will probably flee to Rohan or anywhere close and safe. If he does not stand up for us, we cannot afford to stay loyal.” The older man went along, revealing the folk’s intentions and fears at its strongest and confirming the elf’s insecurities towards the loyalty of the citizens in consideration of the king’s lack of action.   
With an almost obnoxious tone, the companion referred to one of the most recognized aspects that have come up over the past months. “Are not the symbols clear enough? The white tree of Gondor is dying.” 

“And so is our king…” A sigh of melancholy and grief escaped Legolas’s mouth as he passed the streets, leaving the men and walking up to Minas Tirith and his waiting friend. 

*****

His feet lead him up the stairs while he kept lingering in deep thoughts. He looked up from the ground when he stood right in front of the old, almost-black wooden door, reaching out to open it. The long, wide halls opening up in front of him greeted the elf as he walked up to the king. 

“Aragorn!” The aging man raised his head as soon as the shout of his friend reached him. “My king…” Legolas bowed down, trying to catch his breath after the sprint he had taken through the halls. “I certainly do not want to cause any further concern but the folk is in deep worries and distrust. And they have reasons to do so.” 

A groan of distress escaped Aragorn’s mouth, his hands grabbing his constantly aching forehead. Legolas stood up again, leaning onto the throne’s side and watching his old friend. He shook his head in fear and sorrow. 

“Look, the Orcs have been preparing their forces. They moved forward, they are no longer far away from Gondor. Their powers have evolved and their quantity is twice as much as it used to be before we won years ago.” Carefully he was kneeling down in front of Aragorn, setting his hand onto the king’s leg, raising his glance at him in fear although loyalty would keep him as close as possible even if he had to die. Aragorn’s hand grabbed the elf’s chin, gently pulling him upwards until their eyes met. 

“You, Mellon, should not kneel down in front of a friend. I have told you many times…” The king’s rough voice was almost just a whisper in the wide, empty halls, creating an almost sacred atmosphere. A gasp escaped Legolas’s mouth as he stood in front of the former Strider, slightly crooked to be at eye level with him, shaking. Aragorn had never stopped seeing the elf as his friend and not as his citizen but at this particular moment, Legolas knew they were equal. At this particular moment, both were closer to each other than ever before. 

Tentative, Aragorn leaned forward, pulling the elf’s face closer to his own, looking him in the eyes as if there was a tiny sorcerous sparkle willing to be caught. Only millimetres away from his face, he let loose of the elf, closing his own eyes and pressing his lips onto the ones of his counterpart. Legolas was certain that his thoughts would spin around and flip over and over again, forming a chaos inside of his head so he was unable to realise what precisely happened to him. But instead, there was only a mellow shimmer of delight filling his mind with contentedness. He felt his heart pacing, his pulse racing and his hands shaking as he grabbed Aragorn’s hands to hold on to something, a little, precious something, this precise moment.   
It had felt like eternity when the king let go of the kiss, treasuring this precious moment with a gentle smile. Legolas still was astonished, immediately bowing down again, kneeling in front of his king in awe. He took the surprised man’s hand, holding it in both of his hands. 

“I promise, in whichever time you need me, to keep you safe. I promise love and loyalty to you who has lead me already once a long time ago. I promise to stay with you until any of us dies and nothing will tear me apart from my promise. I promise to love and serve you and only you for the rest of my life.” Tenderly, the elf pressed a kiss onto Aragorn’s hand, taking a deep breath afterwards and raising his glance.   
“My king.”

**Author's Note:**

> * Mellon (Elvish) = Friend   
> ** Mae Govannen (Elvish) = Well met [used as a greeting]  
> *** Goheno non (Elvish) = Forgive me


End file.
